8. Katherine
KATHERINE
Not only does my mother look like she knows more about what’s going on with my apartment than I do, but she seems almost gleeful. A year ago, I would have chalked it up to the fact that she likes shopping and was happy to go for any reason, including me not being able to get into my apartment.
But that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve got to be imagining things.
I put my fork down and reach for my water goblet. “I thought you wanted to discuss the trust.”
I need to know just how hard she’s going to fight me on this. If I stick to the stipulations, she can’t cause too much of a stink, right?
Not that that brings me any closer in the actual marital department. I don’t want one of my guys to marry me just so I can secure my inheritance. A part of me would rather walk away from it. But the other part knows that one doesn’t walk away from that kind of money.
“I do. But your apartment?—”
“Will be fine.” I don’t know if that’s true. There could be extensive water damage they haven’t told me about. I just hope my plants are okay. Insurance will be a nightmare, but it is what it is.
“You’re right, of course. Everything’s replaceable,” she says, reaching across the table and patting the tablecloth as if it’s my hand.
Everything?
How about everyone?
Her statement makes an odd kind of sense. She replaced my father with James. And when it became clear that Ford wanted nothing to do with her games and ambitions, she set her sights on me. How did I never notice that before?
I gulp the icy water, feeling my cheeks heat.
The memory comes back with twenty-twenty clarity. Ford deciding to go live with our father. My grandfather losing his shit about it, demanding that my mother put a stop to it. And that very same week, her coming to me to discuss my future in the company and what college I should attend.
“I’m an idiot,” I whisper.
“What was that?”
“About the trust?—”
“Right. I’m glad you’re seeing sense.”
I force a laugh. “I never said I wasn’t.”
“Well, you can’t be serious about Rothburn, and Hunt isn’t exactly in your circle, darling.”
I glance around the elegant dining room with its tall, spotless windows and glittering chandeliers overhead. Alex and Gabe could be sitting at the next table and fit in just fine. They’d also stand out, because they’re both so tall and obnoxiously handsome.
But we’ve already been over that. She didn’t take my words to heart the first time, so I let her rattle on.
“Since the auction didn’t provide any leads, and you won’t give Tyler a second chance, we should look at Preston Shaw or Chase Barrett. Chase will be at the Gala on Friday. We’ll find you something suitable to wear this afternoon.”
Every word out of her mouth makes my stomach tighten. The son of a banker and the son of a hedge fund manager. Shocker.
“The trust doesn’t specify who I have to marry,” I point out, just to see what she says.
She nods. “Thank goodness for small favors. Knowing your grandfather, he would have picked someone twice your age.”
I don’t bother to point out that Chase is in his mid-thirties because I don’t have a problem with an age gap. But apparently, I have a big problem these days with boring conversations. How did I survive years of these without wanting to jump out a window?
I bet King would take me base jumping.
“Are you listening?” my mother asks, her tone sharp.
“Thinking,” I say.
“About Chase or Preston?”
I swear, if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe she just wants to keep the money in the family, I’d think my mother has a thing for younger guys.
She talks about them enough. But it’s not just that she talks about them; it’s that she sort of croons their name like we’re in high school watching a varsity football team during warm-ups.
“Neither actually.”
“Why not?”
I pick up my fork again and poke at my salad, moving a bit of radish around the plate.
She doesn’t even hesitate. “What happened between you and Tyler?”
“He wasn’t that into me,” I say, watching her closely.
She wilts back against the chair, losing her perfect posture. It’s almost comical. Like I finally managed to steal some of the wind from her sails.
After she sulks for a second, she glares at me. “Please tell me you’re not waiting for some great love match.”
“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.”
She rubs a finger between her brows and sighs. “Katherine, he comes from a good family. He’s smart, handsome, even-tempered. He’ll help you move up in the world.”
“I hate to break this to you, Mother, but Tyler is not even-tempered. He grabbed me at the auction. I’m surprised it didn’t leave a bruise.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. “Well, what did you do?”
There are two ways to take that question. What did I do to deserve being grabbed, or what did I do after he grabbed me? I would bet my life that she’s asking the former.
“I walked away.”
“No, I meant?—”
I hold up a hand.
“I know what you meant.”
My heart shatters. I guess until this moment, there was some tiny kernel of hope somewhere deep inside that she actually cared for me as her daughter. As a human. As something other than a pretty pawn she can move around her chessboard. But this isn’t how a mother treats a daughter.
If I found out a man grabbed my daughter, I’d be livid. Alex would break the guy’s hand, but he would have deserved it.
I take another sip of water because I’m suddenly parched. All this time, I assumed that my parents fell out of love, but now I can see that my mother never loved anyone but herself. Not my father. Not me. Not Ford. It was just her and her endless need for approval from her father.
Moving through life, checking off boxes on her to-do list.
“I don’t want my marriage to be a transaction.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be anything else. You’re a Chanler, whether that’s the name on your Amex or not.”
Suddenly, she brightens and sits up straighter in her seat, a smile curving her lips. I turn to see who she’s looking at, and my gaze collides with a familiar face.
“Tyler. Hello,” Mother croons.
Inwardly, I cringe. That’s so fucking creepy.
My ex stops next to our table. His lips are curved in a perpetual smirk, every hair is perfectly in place, and he’s dressed to impress.
“Ladies.”
“We were just talking about you,” my mother says, sounding so pleased.
I wouldn’t put it past her to have signaled him. “What a coincidence,” I add.
What’s that saying? When someone shows you who they are, believe them?
My eyes are wide open now, and I will never, can never, believe that my mother cares about me.
Mother cuts me a look, but then turns that smile right back to Tyler. “Won’t you join us?”
She has got to be kidding.
“I just ate?—”
“Sit. Have tea.” She lifts her hand, looking around for the wait staff.
Making a snap decision, I reach for my purse. “Here, have my seat. I need to be going. Thank you for lunch, Mother.”
I stand, and my mother’s mouth drops open like a fish. Relief wells inside my chest. I can taste my escape.
“Don’t go on my account,” Tyler says.
As if I’d do anything out of concern for him.
I paste on a smile. “Oh, I’m not. Goodbye, Mother.”
“I’ll see you tonight, darling. Chef’s cooking your favorite.”
I stare at Tyler for a long second. His expression is unreadable as it ping-pongs between me and my mother. With a deep breath, I turn back to her. “That’s very kind, but I’m staying with friends.”
I make my escape over her protest, gliding—okay, power walking—between the tables. In the anterior room, I press the button for the elevator. A hand closes around my elbow, and I pivot as I pull away.
“Katherine—”